


Trust/Lust

by Eratoschild



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, includes deliberate cutting but not graphic, with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 21:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eratoschild/pseuds/Eratoschild
Summary: But so too did he want this, wanted what his lover wanted. The give, the take, knowing that when all was said and done, knowing that he would have his turn to be at the other’s hand. The thought is one to savor. Though he’d never felt fully powerless and certainly Ravus never had either, each knew well what the other was capable of. There was much to be said for falling in love with a man so dangerous as each could be to the other if he only wanted to.How fortunate, then, that each desired the very opposite.





	Trust/Lust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daskerlizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daskerlizard/gifts).



> Written for Daskerlizard with the request of Fleurentia knife play with feelings

Taking a long breath, and his blade in hand, Ignis gazed intently down at his lover laid out before him. Astrals, this man was a sight to behold.

Meeting an unwavering heterochromatic stare with a long, slow blink, he settled his mind, a sense of serenity descending on him, and he could see it taking hold of Ravus as well, simmering low- for now at least.

It had been far too long since they’d had the chance to properly indulge in pleasures at the edge of his blade, but here they were now, doing just that. He stilled his mind of distractions, took another meditative breath.

“It’s not polite to stare,” Ravus informed him gruffly, eyes challenging.

“Perhaps you should keep that in mind the next time you so choose to lay yourself bare before me,” Ignis purred in response, sliding a hand over Ravus’s thigh, just high enough to tease. “But I don’t see you making any attempt to escape it.”

Though they’d been together for some time now, their exchanges never quite lost the snarky edge of the time before and just after their relationship started.

“I’ll remember that the next time I find you at my mercy,” was Ravus’s venomless retort.

“Do be certain to,” Ignis replied with a smirk. Ravus knew that his response was sincere and that Ignis looked forward to being the one subject to his whims as much as he loved being the one in control himself. For now, he had Ravus at the tip of his blade. “Shall we start?” He knew the answer.

“I’m not here for my health,” Ravus grumbled. 

“Let’s hope not,” Ignis murmured indulgently, setting the blade upon Ravus’s skin. “I do not advise this as a health practice.”

Tracing the tip, slowly, carefully, from gnarled skin to smooth, Ignis watched Ravus’s eyes flutter, his breath tighten, and then relax. This was familiar, this was _theirs_ , intimate, trusting, a little dangerous. 

“Tell me what you want, love,” Ignis intones softly. “Should I mark you this time?”

“Yes,” the word, one syllable, came out in a soft rasp.

“Oh good,” Ignis replied with a curl of his lips, but he applied no more pressure to the blade. There was no need to hurry, skin would be broken soon enough.

Pausing, he lifted blade, leaned down to trail feather kisses over Ravus’s tightly-toned abs. He can’t help but laugh softly as he pulled back, the way they gave a visible flutter in the wake of his lips.

He straightened, took the blade, and laid its edge again on Ravus’s flesh.

_Sharp._

The words that passed between them, slicing too precise, too subtle to cause immediate pain. But given a moment for the air to hit, and nothing on Eos could hope to cause such an exquisite sting. Much like these cuts.

This trust they had grown between them over time, that allowed them even to be here.

He tipped the blade, angling it so that the very point dug into Ravus’s skin, his lover’s soft hiss in response filling his ears with such an arousing sound. How tempted he was to cut short the more risky activities in favor of simply losing himself in this man. 

But so too did he want this, wanted what his lover wanted. The give, the take, knowing that when all was said and done, knowing that he would have his turn to be at the other’s hand. The thought is one to savor. Though he’d never felt fully powerless and certainly Ravus never had either, each knew well what the other was capable of. There was much to be said for falling in love with a man so dangerous as each could be to the other if he only wanted to.

How fortunate, then, that each desired the very opposite. 

Tearing himself out of thought, Ignis returned his concentration to his dagger, glancing at the tip, following the trajectory across the landscape of skin and muscle and metal. 

“You go too slowly,” Ravus informed him. 

“And you are too impatient, darling,” Ignis replied soothingly, twisting his wrist to dig the tip in once more, Ravus’s facial contortions a slow-burning fuel for his building desire.

Ravus jolted as the blade bit into him again, but he didn’t complain, had he not asked for this after all? While he was not particularly fond of the pain that came with these pursuits, it was inevitable, a calculated and accepted element if it meant everything else that accompanied it.

Pain. He’d known pain in the past, but never at the hand of someone he cared for him, never from someone who would _stop_ the second he so much as hinted at the need. And certainly

never from someone he _trusted_. 

The pain was worth the rest: Ignis’s snarky surface, his smirks, raised eyebrows, and biting comments, sharp as the blades he wielded. But also how quickly they belied his caring and tenderness, how his eyes softened as he trailed the blade over Ravus’s skin, following the ridges and whorls of his scars, how the bite of the blade was chased by the softness and warmth of his lips or tongue, exactly how ready he always was to pull back, to stop. More than this, even, he reciprocated, just as willing to make himself vulnerable under Ravus’s hand. To trust and to be trusted, something Ravus had needed to grow accustomed to. How foreign it had been, how exciting -and, if he were being honest with himself, intimidating, when Ignis had first willingly laid aside his own defenses, shivering enticingly at the touch of his Magitek hand, knowing what Ravus could do if he wanted, never so much as flinching when the claws tipping the fingers pressed into his flesh, not entirely unlike his own daggers. How his teeth had bitten into his lip, his eyes fallen closed, how his breath had shuddered. 

And upon seeing the marks those claws had left on his flesh, how his lips had curls in wicked appreciation, his eyes darkened with unmistakeable wanting. Ravus hadn’t broken skin. Not that time. But oh, the rush and terror of realizing that he was wanted, desired and for a moment, freezing, wanting to hide from the sheer vulnerability on both sides, to be impervious to intimacy. 

And how glad he was when he did not, to discover his craving for this… _nebulous thing_ that filled him with such fear. 

Ignis understood. How? Ravus was uncertain. It was clear they shared no similar experience. It was as if Ignis could simply _read_ him and _know_. And it was _unnerving._ And at the same time, electrifying, this power they held over each other and allowed to be held in turn. 

And in between times, the fear never fully subsided- likely it never would. Some things cut far deeper than a lover’s words and blades, and heal much less cleanly. But they grew into a relationship, this trust between them, this pleasure…and so much more. He couldn’t help think of this, though his thoughts were quickly chased away by the distinct pain of the tip of the blade finding its mark, effortlessly parting the surface of his skin. The sting followed after a second’s delay as the air hit, the shock both wholly new and wholly familiar. He gritted his teeth, groaning against the pain as the metal retreated, sank in once more with the same stinging slice. 

Fingertips travelled along his skin, following a path parallel to the blade. Parallel. But contrasting: soft, light. Cold metal touched again, he could feel it just starting. He opened his eyes to be met with a gaze of utter concentration that would surely speak of no more than cool detachment were he not familiar with the heat of lust and wanting that lay beyond. 

His mind sank with the blade into the most subtle of depths, everything seemed to swim just beneath the skin, in that tenuous layer between the unbroken surface and too deep. Several more cuts, how long did they take, he couldn’t say, had no interest in timing them. Ravus only cared about the hands behind them, the hands that marked him, the eyes that tracked the dagger’s path and bore into his own, gauging his reaction, his tolerance, his condition, ready to halt before he himself even knew his need. Just now after another cut, he could feel it starting to rise, feel that shared lust took hold within himself and grow restless. No longer could he hold still and surely, in a matter of mere moments more, he would find it very difficult to stop himself from grabbing Ignis, dagger bedamned, and pinning him to the wall, drawing the same reactions as Ignis does now from him. 

Ignis drew the blade across Ravus’s skin one last time, meditative and methodical but coming close to a danger of slipping. There was a slight tremble in the muscle beneath. There was no room here for carelessness or hurry. Neither spoke, neither needed. What lay between them was embodied in that very wordlessness. The soft, incoherent sounds Ravus made were telling, more than, and just now he knew that they were nearing a point of _enough_ and _more._

He could read it in Ravus’s face, in the tension of his body, feel it in his own, they were ready- needed- to move on. However much he ignored his own arousal in favor of intense concentration on his daggers, there reached a moment where it could no longer be held off. How unbearably uncomfortable his trousers were becoming, how rapidly approaching the danger of losing such strict and crucial control. 

Withdrawing his dagger, he finally spoke, not surprised at the raggedness of his voice. “I believe we are at a point where we both need to move on to…other things. Let me just get the antiseptic first for these cuts.”

“Never mind that, I’ll use a curative later.”

Protocol required that he object. (And in truth, he did object, as difficult as it was to speak against the very thing he wanted.) “You risk infection in the meantime,” he stated evenly.

“Right now, I have more urgent concerns,” Ravus countered, eyes raking hungrily over his body as he undressed. 

“It’s impolite to stare,” Ignis echoed the earlier words, though they both knew it served only to further his arousal. 

“Politeness is of no concern to me,” Ravus informed him roughly as his shirt fluttered to the floor and he made short work of undoing his fly, 

When Ignis was down to his underwear- the seconds he took to undress seeming to last forever- then, did Ravus succumb to the urge plaguing him for countless, endless minutes and pull Ignis down with him. Politeness and risk be damned, now that care could be safely cast aside in favor of passion, he was more than ready to give himself over to everything that followed. 


End file.
